


Eridan: Be Happy

by arual1407



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Basically this is just disgustingly fluffy and about broken people finding happiness, Humanstuck, M/M, Mentions of alcohol, Past Abuse, feel good fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-26 03:01:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12049902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arual1407/pseuds/arual1407
Summary: Your name is ERIDAN AMPORA and you have just woken up. It’s not been a good night in any way, shape or form. In fact it’s been a horrible night you’ve spent tossing and turning, waking up every hour or two from nightmares, memories of screaming and glass shattering, a large looming figure, slamming doors and pain, so much pain.-------------------------------------A thing written for tumblr user chocolatula who does great A++ art and who helped me out with a few things.





	Eridan: Be Happy

Your name is ERIDAN AMPORA and you have just woken up. It’s not been a good night in any way, shape or form. In fact it’s been a horrible night you’ve spent tossing and turning, waking up every hour or two from nightmares, memories of screaming and glass shattering, a large looming figure, slamming doors and pain, so much pain.  
But now that you’re awake, squinting in the morning light, trying to ignore the same ray of light that’s hit your face every morning for the last three months, you find that you’re out of that situation. You don’t have to worry about tip toeing around corners, quietly removing empty bottles and shattered glass, hoping and praying that your dad wasn’t drunk and angry again, that your mom wasn’t fuming and screaming and threatening divorce and violence. She wasn’t really your mom though, just the woman your dad married after your real mom passed away. He should have left the bitch after the first time she sent him to the hospital to get his face sewn up. He should have left after she slashed his tires and threatened to stab him. She should have left after he threw a bottle at her head, you still remember the sound, glass shattering and then silence for ten seconds.

All that’s behind you now. Now you don’t have to wake up every morning and get your hungover dad to bed so he could sleep a few hours before he had to get up and go to work. You don’t have to watch your brother come home covered in bruises from the fights he gets in, you don’t have to hear them screaming at each other and just know that the bitch was listening in.

Instead you get to wake up every morning to peace and quiet, soft sheets and an arm or leg draped over you, breath on the back of your neck and the scent of cheap generic shampoo and bodywash all around you, with hints of Axe in there because your boyfriend is a fucking disgusting mongrel who never grew past 13. Mentally, that is. As in behavior and how he takes care of himself and things and you don’t know how much of it is bipolar or schizophrenia or whatever the fuck else is wrong with him.

For now though, you take a moment to appreciate just being with him, the way he lets you sleep half on top of him, his arm a makeshift pillow and your legs tangled with his. It took a while to get used to, but it’s nice.  
In fact it’s so nice you spend a whole 30 minutes just listening to him breathe, feel his chest rise and fall against yours, hear the slight whistle of his breath past that fucking retainer. It’s ridiculous and you love it, honestly, even if it does get a little annoying to listen to eventually. You do eventually have to get up though, considering the fact that you’re the one responsible for breakfast, which you get to be because working as a teacher at a nice college means that sometimes you don’t have classes until midday. It’s amazing and wonderful and your stupid lovely boyfriend works from home so he can look after the cat who-  
Where the fuck is the cat?

That’s the thought that finally drags you out of bed, looking for your stupid fucking cat, a sour little bitch of a sphynx, who’ll somehow always find the worst place to spend her days. Of course you find her on Sollux’s laptop, which practically runs non-stop, warm and cozy for cuddling on when you’re a hairless cat who spends most of her day harassing your poor boyfriend for cuddles and food. Her name is Mrs. Wrinkleface, Her Gremliness III. Usually you both just call her Wrinkly, but still. It’s a great name. You love your cat and your boyfriend, who’ll probably actually want breakfast soon. Another reason you’re in charge of breakfast most days is that your dumb fucking boyfriend gets up late and you get hungry fast and you really don’t want to leave him to make breakfast for himself. Last time he tried to make pancakes and you had to throw away the frying pan. So for now you busy yourself with finding eggs and bacon and toast, listening to the sounds of shuffling in the bedroom, the sounds of a door opening and closing, water running in the bathroom, the mirror cabinet being opened and close, water again and then more shuffling around.

You know what’s coming, but you still brace yourself for something, for the scent of alcohol, angry voices, slamming doors. All you get is a hug and kisses pressed against the back of your neck, scratchy because your stupid boyfriend is a scrub who hasn’t shaved in a week. You see the emerging mustache. You see it, and you hate it with a burning, furious passion. Sure, he thinks he looks baby-faced without any sort of facial hair, and it’s sort true, except babies aren’t gaunt and worn out and constantly looking like they’re running on no sleep ever.

“ED?”

“Yeah? Somethin’ the matter?”

“Nah. Just wanted to say I love you.”

It’s dumb that it still makes you blush and smile like a schoolgirl, but it does. “Love you too, Sol.”


End file.
